Happy Thoughts
by thegoblinjester
Summary: America and Britain think happy thoughts and ward off dementors. Set during the Battle of Hogwarts. Slight UsUk, not enough to put in the romance section.


**Close your eyes and think of England**

The icy chill gripped me, seared through me like frigid fire. All thoughts of heroism left me, leaving me with a misery that was never there before. It was an empty kind of cold, the kind that left you feeling restless and exhausted at the same time. That hollowness that was achingly familiar in an unknown way. It was the exact opposite of that warm glow I was used to, and it was terrible. I felt a horrid ache in my chest, and a wretched dryness in my throat.

The dementors were something I had only faced one other time, and that was long before this reign of terror brought on by you-know-who swept the lands. Long before I had faced this war head on. Long before happy thoughts became sparse and faint. Way back then it was easy, because there were so many happy thoughts to think. Like how I thought moving to the UK was a bad thing until I got accepted to Hogwarts. The day I got my letter was one of the happiest days of my life. Now, that just wasn't enough. I struggled to come up with something, _anything_ to ward off the vile beings, but they had the upper hand. I figured that it was over for me. I was going down fighting just like it should be. But what kind of pathetic wizard-A Gryffindor, nonetheless- fails to perform a simple patronus charm when it's absolutely crucial? But still, what was there left to be happy about? Hogwarts was in flames, people I knew were dying and the villains seemed to be winning. A happy memory wouldn't do it. It would have had to be something that still _was_ at that time that made me happy.

No use. No way was I gonna see that shining bald eagle chase the evil away. No clue how I was gonna survive. No hope, no chance, no victory.

My few friends and backup had either passed out or fled. Ivan was still on his feet, but he was struggling and I doubted that he would be much help. Mattie was on his knees, shaking uncontrollably and staring at nothing. Francis wasn't in my line of sight and Artie was back at the castle, fighting the acromantula horde.

_Heh, I can hear him now. "You git, they're just a few skinny corpses in cloaks! You can hardly call yourself a 'hero' now, can't you? Stand aside, 'hero', and watch how a _gentleman _does things!" Then he'd push me away and perform the best patronus charm I'd ever seen. Huh, I never seen his patronus before... Is it a lion? No, not Slytherin enough... Something cool, no doubt, with huge eyebrows..._

I shook my head clear. It was not the time to get distracted. I paused when I realized that I had regained some control over my body. Why was that? The cloaked freaks pretty were pretty much paying the bill by that point. It can't have been...

_Artie. Think of Arthur Kirkland. Green eyes that sparkle like emeralds. Pale blond hair that's fairer than sunlight. A wit quicker than a whip and a tongue sharper than a sword. An intellect like no other, a whole mind like no other. And don't forget those caterpillars he calls eyebrows!_

Yes. It was _working_. I stooped to pick up my wand(dragon heart string, oak, thirteen inches) and gave those twisted soul-devourers a heroic death grin. And, yet again, I could hear Artie talking in my mind. _That's more like it. Come on, show those dimwits what you're made of! Prove your worth as a hero, a man, and a true Gryffindor! _

I was ready. I didn't care if the spell would cost my whole mind and all my energy. I had to do it. Aiming my wand into the dead center of their midst, I whispered _his _name, and, drawing all my strength, cast the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"

**How it's done: Gentleman style**

As the previously-well-lit room grew dark, I knew what I was in for. A familiar chill shot up my spine, a familiar hollow feeling in my chest. The afterglow from offing at least twenty giant spiders was gone, replaced by a melancholy, achingly empty nothingness. So cold and sad that I was reduced to redundancy. So frigid and depressed that I was forced to repeat myself using slightly different words.

I didn't even need to turn around, I could see their dark reflection in the cracked window. I could also see my school and second home going up in flames. Also, I could see myself. I looked pretty composed, despite the newcomers and their icy aura. Only my eyes gave away the sheer terror one experienced around those cloaked monstrosities.

Seriously doubting that I could conjure up my protective unicorn, I turned around slowly, drawing my wand out of my pocket. The hooded figures swooped through the once grand Great Hall, seeking out their next victim. There were only a few, but they were obviously hungry and more were following, sensing my presence.

Shaking only slightly, I attempted to gather myself and everything happy I'd ever experienced. Well, that didn't take long. The best memory I could conjure up was that time when someone complimented my cooking. And it wasn't even much of a compliment...

My black and green robes needed serious mending. My pale hair was messier than usual. One of my shoes was missing and the sock was accumulating a number of holes and quite a bit of dirt. My shirt was no longer what you'd call "white." Notice my general disarray certainly didn't help with those happy thoughts.

I could practically hear Alfred laughing at me, saying that all my years of serious studying had gone to waste and how I should of spent my time enjoying myself. He'd mock my weariness, despite the fact that we were only about an hour into the battle. He'd proclaim that he truly _is_ the hero, and how I should have respected that.

I gritted my teeth at the thought. I did _not_ want to be outshone by that idiot. He'd never let it go. Feeling strengthened, I moved suddenly and pointed my wand at the nearest dementor, which was only about a yard away. "There's no way you can get the best of _Arthur Kirkland_, you menace!" I sneered, knowing full well it couldn't hear me.

It swooped closer, draining more of my already dwindling happiness. _Come on ol' chap! If Alfred can do it, you can do it ten times better!_ Alfred... Before I could think of anything else, my instincts kicked in and I sort of ran backwards, trying to gather up my strength. The ghastly beast followed, seeming to suck in what little lighting was left.

Still thinking of the American, I raised my wand again and looked that dementor straight in the... Where its eye should have been. I was ready to win that battle. I was tired of running and fighting. I just wanted it to be over, and becoming an empty shell of myself would _not_ help with that. There was no way I'd let myself die. Alfred would definitely scrawl "Told you so!" In sharpie on my tombstone. I had to survive to show him what a Slytherin, no, a _Kirkland_ could do. He needed to be put in his place, and it was up to me to do so.

If I went down, which I had no intention of doing, I would go down as a gentleman, a man and fighting for a noble cause. These freaks would _pay_ for what they did to my school. My home. Hogwarts.

Taking a deep breath, I knew what to do. I gathered all my memories of the times spent with Alfred, and looked at them from a careful distance. _Those_ were the happiest times of my life. Despite his idiocy and tendency to eat everything in sight except for my cooking, he was still someone very important to me. Quick as a whip, I thrust my wand up in the air and shouted my spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"


End file.
